


Resurrection

by barush



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars, Fight Club (1999), Linkin Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barush/pseuds/barush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only after disaster can we be resurrected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrection

“So how was it? “ Chester asks.

Sitting on a hotel bed, white sheets sticking to his sweat slicked body, the tattooed man tilts his head curiously.

“Don’t move,” Jared commands, even though there’s a hint of amusement underlying the tone of his voice. Black eyeliner resting between his fingers, he waits for Chester to sit still before he continues applying it to Chester’s lower eyelid.

“How was what?” Jared says at last, licking his lips while admiring the handiwork he’s just finished.

Chester slowly lifts one of his hands, using the other as leverage and takes a drag on the joint that has been passing between the two men for quite some time now. The air in the sealed hotel room is saturated with a sweetly smelling smoke mingled with the undeniable scent of sex. As Jared starts working on his lover’s left eye, Chester finally speaks up again.

“Being close to him. Tyler Durden. How did it feel?”

Momentarily taken aback, Jared stops his antics to stare incredulously at Chester. When he sees the glazed over look in the other man’s eyes, he decides it’s the weed talking and remains silent, focusing again at the task at hand. Meanwhile, Chester continues.

“Sometimes when Brad fucks me -“

“Brad?” Jared asks casually.

“Yeah, Brad. Big hair, you know…”

“Oh, right. So?”

“So when he fucks me, sometimes I’m imagining it’s Tyler, you know? Fucking punk rock God…” Chester trails off, dreamily looking out the window. In the meantime Jared puts finishing touches to his creation, tying up the loose ends until everything’s just perfect.

“Here, all done,” he hands Chester a piece of a huge mirror they’ve broken just a few hours ago during the wild prelude to their even wilder intercourse.

The jet black eyeliner perfectly circling Chester’s eyes and stretching out towards his temples creates almost a symbiosis with his raven hair. The red rays of the setting Sun make his pale skin gleam so much that it looks almost golden, his whole body resembling a canvas now. Jared is suddenly overwhelmed by a strange urge to fill it with his art.

“You really do have an angel face,” Chester whispers out of the blue, managing to startle the other man.

Swiftly regaining his composure, Jared smirks, “I do, don’t I?” and leans closer to his lover, lips grazing over the soft skin of his pale cheek.

Chester’s breath hitches in his throat as his hand unconsciously tightens around the broken glass, the pressure making his skin split. Fueled by an abrupt wave of lust, Jared carefully takes Chester’s hurt hand into his and slowly licks his palm, tasting the essence of copper on his tongue.

Looking straight into Chester’s eyes, breathing hard, Jared pants “Do you want me to do you a favour?”

Equally as aroused now, the tension in the room increasing second by second, Chester squeaks out, “yes.”

“Say it then. Say it!” Jared commands.

“I… I want you to h – hit me as hard as you can,” Chester finally whispers, closing his eyes, almost painfully hard.

Not waiting for anything, Jared slaps him in the face. And again. And again. Blows are flying from all the possible directions, landing wherever they can reach. And Chester doesn’t fight back. He just lies there, whimpering softly, taking everything Jared has to give.

After they’ve both come hard, semen mingling with blood on the dirty sheets, Jared sits back to admire his no longer blank canvas.

“I felt like destroying something beautiful,” he says, looking at Chester’s face. Smudged eyeliner and blood stains.

“Only after disaster can we be resurrected,” the broken man murmurs silently and Jared nods, taking a last drag from the almost forgotten joint before throwing it out the open window.

Later, in the shower, Chester’s watching the pinkish water being washed away down the drain and wonders whose fat it might be that the soap is so damn good. The blood is coming off so easily, almost as effortlessly as those hands clawing at his body have just made him come again, god knows how many times already that day.

All of a sudden, strong arms pin him to the wall and an even voice whispers into his ear, “The first rule, Chester, is that you do not talk about this.” And the words sound strangely familiar.

A few hours later, when Chester wakes up to the sound of Brad’s horrified scream, he doesn’t know what answer to give his lover. He can’t say it was Jared who did this to him because suddenly, Chester’s painfully aware that their tour with 30 Seconds To Mars ended months ago. A recurring omnipresent mantra of ‘this is your life and it's ending one minute at a time’ starts to repeat itself in his head and it feels like deja vu – all over again.

And Chester cannot say anything, not to break the first and foremost rule of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the lines are borrowed from the movie Fight Club.


End file.
